by Parker Grey
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Double Dirty Royals
An MFM Romance
Parker Grey
This untouched princess is ours.
We’re royal, rich, and we’ve both got absolutely enormous… castles. Women practically line up for our princely pleasures - and if they’re lucky, we’ll even share the same woman.
Nothing’s off limits for the two of us, no matter how dirty.
That makes us the worst possible suitors for Katarina, the virginal crown princess of Tomassia. She needs to get married and give her kingdom an heir yesterday, but the Princess is totally innocent, inexperienced, and untouched - and we’re not the marrying types.
But this sweet princess is pure temptation. She’s got curves that could tempt a monk, lips made for being bitten, and eyes that just beg us to dominate and control her.
Just one night? Yeah, that won’t be enough. Her father doesn’t want us both marrying her, but that won’t stop us.
We’re going to make our princess scream our names. We’re going to make her ours.
And we’re going to give her the heirs she needs.
No matter what.
Double Dirty Royals is a very steamy book about two princes who fall for the same princess, and won’t let anything get between them and her! It’s an MFM menage, which means that it’s all about her - no M/M scenes.
So if you’re looking for some over-the-top, super-cheesy instalove with spicy scenes that’ll make your kindle blush, you’re in the right place!
Join my mailing list and get Dirty Princess for free!
I’m a good girl - but they both want me!
As the only daughter of the Nero crime family, I’m practically a princess - and I get treated like one.
That is, until the Diamante family breaks into our mansion, crashes our Christmas party… and two very sexy men take me hostage.
Colt and Dante are huge, ripped, possessive, dominant, totally in control…
…and these two sinfully hot hitmen want to share me.
Join my mailing list and get Dirty Princess for free!
Chapter One
Katarina
I stand in front of the massive doors to the throne room and swallow, nervously staring up at the ornate, carved wood. They’re from the 12th century, and they show the legendary King Torgud slaying a dragon.
At least I’m not a dragon, I think.
“His Majesty said you’re to enter at your leisure, princess,” the guard standing by the door says.
“Thank you, Lorenzo,” I say, but it doesn’t make me less nervous.
My father, King Edward IV of Tomassia, isn’t in the habit of asking to speak with me privately in the throne room unless he’s got something big to tell me. Or, worse, I’ve done something he’s unhappy about.
I take a deep breath and push the door open with a long, slow creak that echoes through the huge chamber. At the far end, up on the dais, are my mother and father, both seated on their thrones. Behind them are three smaller thrones — one each for me and my two younger sisters.
My parents aren’t wearing their crowns, but they’re both decked in their royal finest, as am I: my mother in a deep blue silk dress that skims her still-regal shoulders, my father in a military jacket with buttons down the front.
I’m wearing a floor length emerald-green dress, also silk, my red hair pulled back into a complicated knot at the nape of my neck. It’s not what I usually wear, but today’s not just any day.
“Katarina,” my father booms as I walk the length of the throne room.
“Good morning, father, mother,” I answer. Our relationship isn’t necessarily always this formal, but being in full regalia in the throne room tends to bring out the formality.
When I stop in front of them, I curtsy. My mother smiles.
My father sighs.
“Kat, I’m sorry for asking you here without telling you what this is all about,” he says, leaning over the arm of his throne. “But, frankly, this is very important and I didn’t want to have this discussion over breakfast.”
Outside, the clouds suddenly break, and sunlight streams through the stained-glass windows positioned along the ceiling, lighting the whole throne room.
“What is it?” I ask, though I have a feeling I already know.
My parents look at each other, then back at me.
“It’s time you were married,” he says.
My stomach clenches, and I swallow hard. I had a feeling that’s what this was going to be about, but now that he’s said it, suddenly my palms are sweaty and my heart’s beating faster.
“Tomassia needs an heir,” he says. “And since I decreed last year that the crown passes to the eldest child, regardless of gender, it’s high time that we thought about the future of this country.”
The future meaning my children.
I don’t mind that part. I like kids, and I’ve always wanted them — which is good, since having them is part of my royal duties. But there’s one huge, major problem.
I’m not married. I’ve never even had a boyfriend.
I’ve never even had sex.
Hard to give the kingdom heirs without that particular ingredient. I look up at my father, hands clasped in front of me, and wonder how to word my next question.
My mother looks at him, then leans down herself.
“Part of the reason that the Inter-Continental Council of Kingdoms is having its summit meeting in Tomassia this year is because you’ll be entertaining a number of suitors,” she says. “Your father and I have quietly put it out that you’re ready to be married, and of course, sweetheart, that’s attracted some interest.”
I look at the floor. Someday I’ll be queen of the tiny-but-insanely-wealthy Tomassia. Of course I’ve attracted interest.
“In particular, it’s attracted the interest of Prince Sven of Norograv,” my father says. “I know he’s a bit older than you, but he’s very wealthy, Norograv is powerful and a strong ally, he has a fantastic lineage, and most importantly, he’s willing to be the Prince Consort of Tomassia.”
My heart stops.
I don’t know Sven in person, but I know about him. He’s the younger brother of the King of Norograv, Mikael. He’s almost forty, balding, pudgy, and makes the gossip press constantly.
It’s bad enough when a handsome, wealthy young man is an international playboy.
But it’s worse when an unattractive, gross jerk thinks he’s an international playboy.
“Sven?” I ask, my mouth going dry.
My father fixes me with a hard look, his mouth forming a straight line across his face. I’ve gotten the lecture about how my duty is first to my country and then to myself about a thousand times, so I know exactly what he’s thinking.
He’s thinking that I owe it to Tomassia to marry Sven and have a coupl
e of strong Tomassian babies with good strong genes, and he’s not going to listen to any arguments about it.
“Yes, Prince Sven of Norograv will likely be an excellent match,” he says.
I duck my head, stomach clenching.
“Yes, father,” I say, just as the big doors open behind me again.
“There you are, girls,” my mother says. It must be my younger sisters, Princesses Alexandra and Florentina. “I’m glad you came early. It’s a big day today.”
I think I might throw up, but that would be very un-royal.
The Council is endless, and more, it’s really uncomfortable. Sitting on a throne, holding a scepter and wearing a crown for a couple of hours are a surefire ticket to a wicked head and backache.
Sure, as the Crown Princess I attend plenty of state events, but this is the twenty-first century. I’m much more likely to be wearing a business suit than a formal dress, and I’m more likely to have a blow-out than a crown.
To top it all off, the Norogravian delegation still hasn’t presented itself. I think they’re going last, which is the worst, because I’ve already been dreading it all day.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” the current delegation leader — I think he’s a one of those city-state leaders who styles himself a viscount? — says, and my father nods. The man steps away, but I’m barely paying attention.
“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” the next voice says, and a jolt of recognition snaps through me. I jerk to attention, because that voice sounds incredibly familiar, but I can’t place why.
“We’re honored to be part of the Council,” says another, equally familiar voice.
Then the voices’ owners step forward to where I can see them, and my jaw nearly drops.
Standing in front of my father, dressed in military dress uniforms, are the two most perfect-looking men I’ve ever seen in my life. They look totally different — one is dark-haired and light-eyed, his facial hair just hinting at sideburns, his chiseled face serious and handsome, the other light-haired and gray-eyed, a hint of a smile around his mouth — but they’re both incredibly, world-shatteringly, earth-shakingly gorgeous.
At the same time, they both bow to my father in unison, but as they stand up straight, they both glance my way for just a moment.
I think my heart tries to escape through my mouth, because despite being here, in this throne room, behind my father, it’s the sexiest, filthiest, most wicked look I’ve ever gotten.
And I got it from two men at the same time.
“I’m pleased that San Javier and Materbourg could join us this year,” my father says smoothly. “I’m honored by your attendance, Princes Dominic and Bruno.”
I nearly gasp out loud.
Oh my gosh, that’s who they are.
I can’t believe it. The last time I saw the respective princes of San Javier and Materbourg, I was thirteen and at the royal wedding of a distant cousin. They were sixteen, and though I didn’t say more than three words to them the entire weekend, I nursed crushes on both of them for years afterwards.
And now they’ve grown up... very well.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Dominic says smoothly.
Just like that, they step aside and sit, leaving me just about breathless with surprise.
But there’s one more delegation, of course. The big doors swing open a final time, and in stride four guards in military uniforms, all staring straight ahead, not looking at anything. Behind them are three men in very expensive suits — two of them flanking the one in the middle, clearly his assistants.
The man in the middle takes off his sunglasses, folds them into his pocket, and holds both hands out toward my father.
“Your Highness,” he says. “The pleasure is entirely mine.”
It’s Sven, and just standing there he looks greasy. Maybe it’s his slicked-back hair, maybe it’s the thing with the sunglasses, or maybe it’s the way that his suit buttons are pulling the tiniest bit, like he’s a little too fat for the suit, but he’s just kind of gross.
“Tomassia is honored to host Norograv’s delegation yet again,” my father says smoothly.
I tune out the rest of their conversation — it’s all diplomatic niceties anyway — and look over Sven with something like stomach-churning horror.
They can’t be serious, I think. Him?
Despite myself, I look back at where Dom and Bruno are sitting, listening politely to the conversation, and my heart skips a beat.
Why couldn’t they pick one of them for me? I wonder.
Chapter Two
Dominic
The second I see Katarina, everything changes. I can’t believe that’s her, the cute-but-awkward kid I met nearly ten years ago at a distant cousin’s wedding, because I can’t stop staring, even in front of her parents.
I think I manage some formal niceties, but hell if I know what I’m saying. All I’m thinking about is the sinfully gorgeous creature on the dais with the plush lips, blue eyes, red hair, and fucking knockout figure.
“I’m honored by your attendance, Princes Dominic and Bruno,” King Edward says.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” I manage to say, before taking my seat, almost in a daze.
She’s beautiful. Beyond beautiful, sweet and pure looking, but with a tiny waist and incredible curves just begging to be plundered, and in the second I see her, I’m determined: I’m gonna be the one to plunder her.
That’s why I’m here, after all. Except I didn’t take it seriously until this very second. My father thought that the Crown Princess and I would be a good match, so he sent me here on a pretense, but I’m really supposed to be courting her.
But let’s just say that pictures of Princess Katarina don’t come anywhere fucking close to doing her justice. I was planning on living it up at the Council, making my way through the beds of the third-born-daughters of dukes and earls, because I hate repeating myself and I’ve got a reputation to uphold.
And did I mention that she’s a virgin? Katarina is famously a virgin, the eldest daughter of a very protective, very old-fashioned king. I don’t know what it is about her beautiful face, her killer body and her untouched state, but it’s totally intoxicating, even from across the room.
Now I’m a little more interested in my stated mission.
At last, the formal reception ends. The royal family walks out ahead of us, and then we all follow. I’m still thinking about Katarina, imagining pushing her dress over her hips and bending her over the throne.
“Holy shit,” Bruno says, his voice low, his serious eyes looking straight ahead. “Was that Katarina?”
Something cold and heavy sinks into my stomach. He saw her, too? I know we’re here for the same reason, but he was taking it about as seriously as I was — until now, apparently.
“Yes, I think it was,” I say, keeping my voice totally neutral.
I was with Bruno the last time I saw her, too. We were a little older than her, and already getting into plenty of trouble together at our Swiss boarding school, so we didn’t have a lot of time for her back then.
Besides, she was a kid, and even though I could tell she had an obvious crush on each of us, it’s not like it went anywhere. Bruno and I went back to school and proceeded to get into the panties of nearly every girl on campus.
Usually solo, but sometimes — sometimes — together.
I wonder if she’s still got a crush.
I wonder if she’s as sweet and innocent as she looks, or if she’d give up that innocence to the right person.
I wonder...
“We have a few hours until dinner,” Bruno says, his voice still formal. “Did you have plans?”
I give him a funny look.
“What plans, exactly, would I have?”
“You do make plans without telling me sometimes, you know.”
“What have you got in mind?”
“A stroll through the gardens,” he says. “I hear they’re quite lovely this time of year.”
; What Bruno really means is I want to get away from all these people. Despite being born into royalty, he’s never been much of a people person. Really, it was a blessing that he was born the second son.
Kings have to do a lot of dealing with people, especially in modern times. It’s been a few hundred years since they could just order someone’s head cut off and not worry about it.
“I’ve heard the same,” I say. “And I’ll join you, if the offer’s open.”
We stroll through the castle to the gardens, not talking much, but we don’t really need to talk. Our kingdoms, San Javier and Materbourg, are both small mountainous countries that neighbor each other, so we’ve known each other since we were toddlers.
Plus, we’re both the second son, and both have older brothers who will be king someday. We’re destined for a life of diplomacy, state affairs, and marrying advantageously.
To Katarina, for example.
And of course, when you’re a royal, marrying well includes making an heir.
I can’t help but imagine that sweet, innocent girl with a huge, round belly, big with my child, and I go rock hard in a second. I don’t even know why — I’ve spent years making sure I don’t get anyone pregnant — but there’s something about her, with my kid, that makes my dick nearly burst out of my trousers.
I clear my throat as Bruno and I walk down a side hallway, toward the garden and away from the crowd. For the first time in years, I’m starting to get uncomfortable with the silence, because I’m realizing something.
Holy shit, was that Katarina wasn’t just a question. He meant holy shit, she got hot.
The exact same thing I thought when I saw her. Maybe he’s thinking the exact same thing I am, right now. Maybe he’s thinking about her, pregnant with his child.
My hands clench into fists and I take a deep breath. I’m getting way, way ahead of myself here. I haven’t even spoken to the girl yet — not that she needs to talk for what I want to do to her.
I push open the heavy wooden door to the garden and glance over at my best friend. He’s staring straight ahead, stone-faced.
